roses, food, and imperfection
Lots of reading, but very little blogging, so this is a catch-up posting. I suppose the guest lecture and keynote speech and the two classes I'm teaching and the writing do tend to get in the way. Today I gave a keynote speech for a little regional conference of teachers interested in history. It was my first time giving an hour plus talk with questions, and interestingly I found it really is about the amount that fits into any one of my 40-page-double-spaced history papers. I did talk for about an hour about "Creating a History of Children as Readers," but then left time for 30 min or so of questions, and I think it went well, though the evaluations that they'll send me will be useful. It was a pleasure to talk to such a great audience of intelligent history teachers with good questions.
In the meantime, I have been reading:
Rose Daughter by Robin McKinley
This retelling of Beauty and the Beast came to my attention years ago, when Betsy talked about it, and I vaguely remembering skimming through it. But this is not a book you can skim. To absorb it, you have to dive into its fantasy world and let it take over. The pacing is slow like dreams are slow, as Beauty discovers the castle, learns the Beast, and begins to decipher the magical complexities of history and identity that bring her to a crossroads and, ultimately, to a decision. In this version, the Beast stays a Beast, he does not transform back into the man he once was. I'm reading this in part because of B. who is doing an independent study with me, updating her thesis to be a publishable paper, and she tells me she absolutely hated this ending as a child. I can see why, and it reaffirms the sense that this is really an adult retelling. It's a satisfying tale on so many levels, interweaving reality and dreams in ways that feel more emotionally real than most realistic fiction. If I had a complaint, it would be that she still knows the Beast so little when they are married. But, really, knowing a person is so complicated, and both are characters of very few words. Beauty certainly chooses her own fate, and that is satisfying in and of itself.
About love:
"Roses are for love. Not forget-me-not , honeysuckle, silly sweethearts' love but the love that makes you and keeps you whole, love that gets you through the worst your life'll give you and that pours out of you when you're given the best instead." (p. 56)
About being unmade:
"But the worst borne is not necessarily past and over with thereby. The worst of fighting a dragon is being caught in its fire, but you do not survive dragon encounters by commanding your muscles to withstand dragon fire, because you and they cannot. You survive by avoiding being burnt. [...] Whatever--whoever--she was, it was beign transformed implacably into something else; she was being undone, unmade, annihilated...." (p. 92)
About one's old life dissolving:
"When we had to leave the city, I thought I'd die. Not for grief, or even anger, but more from a kind of... amazement that the world could be so unlike what I had thought. And then... fear. Fear for all those things I didn't know. I would get up in the morning and look at my petticoats, and my stockings, and my shoes, and my dress, and I didn't know which one to put on first, or whether my shoes went on my feet or my head. I would decide they went on my feet from the shape. How could I live when I know nothing?" (p. 265)
The Gastronomy of Marriage by Michelle Maisto
On the upside, this book is full of wonderful food descriptions, one of which inspired me to make a fig and olive tapenade that was excellent on crackers for a party appetizer and better still on pasta later. Maisto touches on so many simple but real truths about melding one's life with another, but "marriage" is overstating it, as this is really about food, eating, identity, and the process of being engaged and working toward a wedding. I think the landscape before that point is more similar than the landscape after, because every marriage, every partnership, has its own mysterious borders. I'd love to see a book like this from someone married for 15, 30, or 45 years, when the gastronomy is more than melding, but is also phases of separating, rejoining, agreeing, disagreeing, finding the foods that mean celebration or comfort at so many different parts of life. Still. The dinner party descriptions and the wonderful Manhattan food and tiny kitchen are evocative and well described. Maybe Maisto will follow up when her experience of marriage is, well, a little more extensive. I'd read that.
The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown
I thought I'd sworn off self-help books (except Sark), but this one is by a researcher who does extensive qualitative research on topics like "shame resilience" and what she calls "Wholehearted Living." It's not a research book, and my only complaint is that it's really too lightweight for me. I'm less interested in solutions and more interested in process and evidence at this point in my life. So I'll be reading more of the evidence from her research studies. It's probably silly to complain about an explicitly self-help book being overly prescriptive, so I won't bother. But the bullet-point-style writing gives me enough to understand that I'd like to know more about this social work perspective on, for instance, surviving shame, differentiating guilt from shame, and living in ways that are authentic.
In the meantime, I have been reading:
Rose Daughter by Robin McKinley
This retelling of Beauty and the Beast came to my attention years ago, when Betsy talked about it, and I vaguely remembering skimming through it. But this is not a book you can skim. To absorb it, you have to dive into its fantasy world and let it take over. The pacing is slow like dreams are slow, as Beauty discovers the castle, learns the Beast, and begins to decipher the magical complexities of history and identity that bring her to a crossroads and, ultimately, to a decision. In this version, the Beast stays a Beast, he does not transform back into the man he once was. I'm reading this in part because of B. who is doing an independent study with me, updating her thesis to be a publishable paper, and she tells me she absolutely hated this ending as a child. I can see why, and it reaffirms the sense that this is really an adult retelling. It's a satisfying tale on so many levels, interweaving reality and dreams in ways that feel more emotionally real than most realistic fiction. If I had a complaint, it would be that she still knows the Beast so little when they are married. But, really, knowing a person is so complicated, and both are characters of very few words. Beauty certainly chooses her own fate, and that is satisfying in and of itself.
About love:
"Roses are for love. Not forget-me-not , honeysuckle, silly sweethearts' love but the love that makes you and keeps you whole, love that gets you through the worst your life'll give you and that pours out of you when you're given the best instead." (p. 56)
About being unmade:
"But the worst borne is not necessarily past and over with thereby. The worst of fighting a dragon is being caught in its fire, but you do not survive dragon encounters by commanding your muscles to withstand dragon fire, because you and they cannot. You survive by avoiding being burnt. [...] Whatever--whoever--she was, it was beign transformed implacably into something else; she was being undone, unmade, annihilated...." (p. 92)
About one's old life dissolving:
"When we had to leave the city, I thought I'd die. Not for grief, or even anger, but more from a kind of... amazement that the world could be so unlike what I had thought. And then... fear. Fear for all those things I didn't know. I would get up in the morning and look at my petticoats, and my stockings, and my shoes, and my dress, and I didn't know which one to put on first, or whether my shoes went on my feet or my head. I would decide they went on my feet from the shape. How could I live when I know nothing?" (p. 265)
The Gastronomy of Marriage by Michelle Maisto
On the upside, this book is full of wonderful food descriptions, one of which inspired me to make a fig and olive tapenade that was excellent on crackers for a party appetizer and better still on pasta later. Maisto touches on so many simple but real truths about melding one's life with another, but "marriage" is overstating it, as this is really about food, eating, identity, and the process of being engaged and working toward a wedding. I think the landscape before that point is more similar than the landscape after, because every marriage, every partnership, has its own mysterious borders. I'd love to see a book like this from someone married for 15, 30, or 45 years, when the gastronomy is more than melding, but is also phases of separating, rejoining, agreeing, disagreeing, finding the foods that mean celebration or comfort at so many different parts of life. Still. The dinner party descriptions and the wonderful Manhattan food and tiny kitchen are evocative and well described. Maybe Maisto will follow up when her experience of marriage is, well, a little more extensive. I'd read that.
The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown
I thought I'd sworn off self-help books (except Sark), but this one is by a researcher who does extensive qualitative research on topics like "shame resilience" and what she calls "Wholehearted Living." It's not a research book, and my only complaint is that it's really too lightweight for me. I'm less interested in solutions and more interested in process and evidence at this point in my life. So I'll be reading more of the evidence from her research studies. It's probably silly to complain about an explicitly self-help book being overly prescriptive, so I won't bother. But the bullet-point-style writing gives me enough to understand that I'd like to know more about this social work perspective on, for instance, surviving shame, differentiating guilt from shame, and living in ways that are authentic.
